


Tattooed Lines and Traced Wings

by Oliver__Niko



Series: Inkstant Attraction [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Crushes, Felix Being Incredibly Gay, M/M, Tattooist Sylvain Jose Gautier, Tattoos, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29005584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/pseuds/Oliver__Niko
Summary: Felix had originally planned to get a single tattoo in memory of his father. He hadn't expected to become instantly infatuated with his tattooist, nor wish to drop by again.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Inkstant Attraction [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2127846
Comments: 9
Kudos: 77





	Tattooed Lines and Traced Wings

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been eating away at me for WEEKS and I wrote this in a frenzy earlier in the month. I'm glad to finally have it up, it was so precious to write and I hope you enjoy.

A winter chill falls over Fhirdiad. Ice stretches across sidewalks and the roads alike, causing Felix to warily glance at cars which drive by. It seems like it’d be his luck to have some car spiral off the road and onto the pavement he follows.

Naturally, this doesn’t happen, although he does have to press his lips together in amusement when a young couple falls onto the icy floor together. He’s sure he can avoid going to hell over this when the couple are laughing themselves.

Before long, his steps have taken him to his destination; his eyes fall on a sign in front of him, reading _Blue Lion Tattoos._ This is it. It’s time for him to find solace and ease some guilt by permanent ink on his skin.

He enters. A part of him envisions the parlour to be full of massive men with tattoos all over, but he’s pleasantly surprised that for one thing, the room is almost empty. Always a plus. As well as this, though there are naturally a couple of tattooed people, it’s not as though it looks like an entire biker gang in here … Though now he thinks about it, that wouldn’t exactly be a bad thing, either.

“See you again!” says a voice, his tone friendly. It belongs to a man smiling at a customer, someone Felix only knows by name and a photo on the parlour's website. “Hey there, what can I do for you?”

It takes Felix a moment to realise that this man is speaking to him. He blinks, taking in the red hair belonging to Sylvain Gautier, and manages to finally get some words out without snapping. “I have an appointment booked.”

“Oh, you must be Felix. Wrist tattoo, right?” Felix nods, watching as Sylvain looks into a planner in front of him. Holy shit. As one would expect from the owner of the establishment, the tank top he wears reveals tattoos travelling down either of his arms, and … Sothis, is it something that Felix can appreciate. Muscle definition and tattoos are apparently a fantastic combination. “Right, so Ignatz has had to call in sick, so I was going to take over for him as I have free slots. That okay, or do you need to rebook?”

“Oh, sure. No need to rebook.” Felix manages to bite back questioning if he should really be getting charged more, if it’s the owner who is tattooing him. He wouldn’t exactly say no to managing to save a little money here—he likes to avoid his inherited money when possible.

“Awesome. Come on through into here.”

Sylvain leads the way into a room in the back, as Felix … well, has his eyes fall on _Sylvain’s_ back. It’s mostly covered by the tank top he wears, although Felix notices some vines peeking out beneath the straps across his shoulders.

“I imagine Crest tattoos are common,” says Felix. He’d expect as much—all families with noble descent on this continent have their own Crest.

“Oh, yeah. Be it because they’re proud of their lineage, they want to honour a family member, just find it cool … Or, if you’re me, hated your family and want to get it as a ‘fuck you’, considering _my_ family thought that tattoos were a sign of the devil or something.” Sylvain gestures towards the room. “All right, let’s get this design ready.”

Before long, the purple guidelines have been traced onto his wrist. His eyes peer down at the lines forming the Crest of Fraldarius. Doesn’t look bad. In fact, Felix can quite appreciate how it’ll look against his skin once it’s done, more than simply getting a tattoo in honour of someone.

He’s not sure if his situation can be described as ‘honouring’ his father. Can those words apply when this might simply be a way of him clearing his own guilty conscience? There might even be something in that which causes this to be one way ticket straight to hell. After all the two endured together, however, and how Felix has had to dwell over countless regrets since his father’s death two years ago, he supposes that at least the thought of doing something like this cannot be a negative.

Soon, Felix has taken a seat alongside Sylvain, with his arm propped up. He cannot help but stare at the needle in Sylvain’s hand. “Scared?” the latter questions, a small grin on his face.

“No.” Felix pauses, before he adds, “I’m fine with pain. I just don’t like needles.”

Which truly shouldn’t be the case by now. He’s had numerous blood tests over the years, and once did his injections _himself_ when it came to testosterone. Although with the latter, he eventually chose to switch over to gel for a needle-free experience, and that probably says a lot about how much he’d rather not be anywhere near needles at all.

“Loads of customers dislike needles, so don’t worry too much. I’ll be gentle.” Sylvain’s fingers trace over the inside of Felix’s wrist, lightly touching the bones. “It might hurt a bit there, but mostly just feels a bit weird, I promise.”

“Yeah. I’d expect that.” The words come out a little bit breathless. Felix cannot say why, precisely, but he knows it has something to do with Sylvain touching him as he gives his reassurance.

It’s not just the touch, either. Sylvain shuffles slightly into place, eyes focused on Felix’s wrist as he wipes the area, and something about that sharp jaw and the stubble across it makes Felix—

“You’re a bit tense,” says Sylvain. “Make sure to breathe, okay? Something like this won’t take long at all.”

“I know. It’s fine.”

So the Goddess has apparently decided to put one of those few people Felix is actually attracted to in front of him, and his heart is now beating a little faster because of a face as opposed to the needle about to put permanent ink on his skin. She surely does enjoy playing jokes this way.

“Not too bad?” Sylvain asks as he begins his work, tracing the guidelines on Felix’s wrist. He shakes his head. Sure, it stings, but now he has his initial fear of the needle out of the way, he’s not really noticing anything about the tattooing. Rather, his eyes are on Sylvain’s gloved hand instead. Large in size, but still holding that needle in place with the utmost care.

“See? Not so bad.”

“Right.” Felix is grateful that staring at Sylvain’s hand, something which he’s extremely odd for being attracted to, looks as though he is simply observing Sylvain’s tattooing. “Uh, how long have you done this for? I can tell you’ve probably at least liked tattoos for a long time, what with how you’re covered in the things.”

“Oh, yeah. Got my first the moment I was legal to. I’ve been tattooing professionally for … Goddess, eight years now. Time flies for sure.”

“It shows for sure. I saw some photos of your work on the website.”

As Sylvain wipes away some blood from Felix’s skin, he meets the other’s eye for a moment in order to give him a smile. “Thank you, Felix.”

Felix gives what he hopes at least as _some_ closeness to a smile, before dropping his eyes back to his hand. He’s not the best at eye contact anyway, never mind when he is meeting the eyes of a guy he has become irrationally attracted to in the span of twenty minutes.

“You mentioned that you have a Crest tattoo yourself, before,” says Felix, glancing at Sylvain’s arms. “But I don’t see it.”

“I won’t take my shirt off or anything,” says Sylvain, his smile turning into a hint of a smirk for a moment, “although it’s on my chest.”

“How many tattoos do you have, exactly?”

“Too many to count.”

“I mean, it’s not as though you can’t have them at your job.”

“Exactly.” Sylvain shakes his head in disbelief. “But you’d be surprised regardless. I remember one time how there was this customer who kept bothering us online, trying to get a last minute slot booked. He ended up turning up that day after closing hours, and wouldn’t believe I was the owner because I apparently didn’t look professional.”

Felix lets out a muffled snort. “Wait, are you serious? What _is_ the professional look for someone who owns a tattoo parlour?”

“Exactly! What were they expecting, that I would be wearing a full suit with zero tattoos in sight? Honestly.” Sylvain’s grin returns. “But hey, the good thing about being an owner is not being scared to tell them to fuck off, so there’s a blessing. The most I’ll have to deal with is one bad review.”

“Oh no, the horror when you already have high reviews as it is.”

Sylvain laughs, nodding his head, and the sound is enough for Felix’s heart to do something strange, almost fluttering in his chest. Whatever that means.

True to his word, Sylvain doesn’t take long to finish such a simple tattoo, despite him also having such perfect, smooth lines that Felix did actually watch the process instead of Sylvain’s hand after a while.

Felix soon holds his wrist in front of him, inspecting the ink from various angles. It’s beautiful. It’s only the Crest of Fraldarius, something he has seen Goddess knows how many times on old china and drawn in ancient notebooks, but there is something behind the way Sylvain draws these lines that is different. They flow with life, almost, and Felix is left with the belief that this might be enough after all.

“I know it’s only a wrist tattoo,” says Sylvain, “but if you want to take a look in the mirror to see how it looks from further away, then it’s right over here.”

Taken by curiosity, Felix does indeed allow Sylvain to guide him over to the mirror. He hums in appreciation. “I like it. Thank you.”

“Not traumatic for your first tattoo experience, no?”

“Give over, it was only a small one.” Still, Felix cannot stop a smile from how Sylvain chuckles.

“Let’s get it wrapped up now,” he says, grabbing hold of some cling film. “I’ll do it for you, but you’ll have to do this for a little while as it heals. Don’t worry about any scabbing, but if you see any signs of infection, seek medical advice or drop by here.”

The pair soon make their way back over to the reception desk. Felix fishes for the wallet in the pocket of his jeans, putting his card into the machine. “There we go. Thanks again.”

“Same to you! Hope to see you again, it was nice to meet you.”

Felix nods, sliding his hands into his pockets as he walks out of the store. Sylvain is a friendly man, seemingly extroverted, and Felix is certain that he would say those words to any new customer. It’s simply good for business to be nice enough that people want to return.

Regardless, a small, silly part of him finds meaning in Sylvain’s words, wanting them to mean something to _him,_ and he wonders if there are any other tattoo ideas he could come up with as an excuse to drop by again. His father hadn’t been his only family member, after all.

  
  


* * *

  
  


There is no doubt in Felix’s mind at all that sometimes, he never slows down. His world is racing at a million miles an hour with little that can put a stop to it. It’s as though he cannot feel content if his hands aren’t doing something, if his brain has something to focus on. If he’s not _doing_ anything it’s simply … not something he feels good about. Slowing down is the perfect opportunity for anxieties and dark thoughts to creep in, after all.

But something about Sylvain’s work has granted him another thing to dwell on. When browsing the man’s portfolio, with all the wondrous designs on there leaving him in wide-eyed wonder, he finds himself feeling somewhat inspired. He would definitely not consider himself as an artist anywhere near on Sylvain’s level, but he’s enjoyed drawing from time-to-time. It’s something he used to do with his older brother.

He’s picked up a pencil a few times since Sylvain gave him the tattoo. His eye catches the fresh Fraldarius Crest on his wrist as he brings the pencil across the paper, switching his gaze occasionally to his phone screen to capture the reference it displays. It’s not necessarily something which relaxes him. Perfectionism kicks in, or he gets distracted, or he simply cannot bring his mind away from something else. But he supposes it’s nice to keep his hands busy with this, for once. Especially when it holds fond memories.

It’s during one of these moments that he decides he does not want to leave Sylvain’s work at a single tattoo. His abilities can achieve far more than a mere Crest, not to mention that Felix simply wants more on his skin. He cannot quite ever see himself as having as many tattoos as Sylvain does, but perhaps another one … The image of it seems to appear in his mind out of nowhere, finalising his decision.

“A back tattoo?” questions Sylvain the day Felix drops by to book in, eyeing up the design Felix has drawn. “Sure that’s not too much for your second?”

“What do you think I am?”

“Not a coward, if that’s what you’re getting touchy about.” Sylvain chuckles. “Well, if you’re certain about it, then it’s no problem. It’ll just be a longer session than last time, judging by your design. Which is great, by the way.”

Felix shrugs his shoulders. “Feel free to make any changes to it if you want to. So, uh, got any slots for next week?”

“Sure thing. And it’s me you want it with, yeah?”

“Yeah. If that’s okay.”

“No problem at all.” Sylvain gives Felix a wink, writing down the appointment slot. The two confirm the price (it seems as though Felix will have to dip into his father’s inheritance money after all), a few more notes and, before he knows it, Felix is off with a sense of excitement.

He cannot say for sure that it’s purely for the tattoo, either. There is simply something enjoyable about seeing Sylvain, as silly as he knows that is when the man is doing his job and nothing more.

Regardless of the reason, as he passes through work for a week, he finds that his mind focuses on little else when it's granted a moment to think. He’d take it over anxiety, at least, although there is still some of that lingering over him getting another tattoo at all. It doesn’t matter if the man who is tattooing him is extremely handsome or not. It’s still a needle against his skin to draw some damn lines and colour onto it.

The day soon arrives, he exchanges his greetings with Sylvain, and is led into the back with him. This time, his eyes land on how the tattoo chair is levelled, knowing that lying down will probably be the easiest method.

“It’d be easier to do this if you removed your shirt,” says Sylvain. “But if that’s uncomfortable for you at all, we can just roll your shirt up and avoid it rolling back down.”

“No, it’s fine. Except—” Felix runs his tongue around his lips, taking a glance at Sylvain’s left arm. A bisexual flag is on his bicep, surrounded by roses, but that doesn’t exactly say _everything_ when the ‘LGB Alliance’ exists. “I’m wearing a binder.”

“Oh, a tank one?”

This question takes Felix off guard for a moment. “Uh, no. It’s cropped.”

“Then is it a towel you need to cover yourself or something?”

Felix’s heart begins to settle. So Sylvain’s only concern is being able to get to the area at all and that Felix is comfortable. “No, don’t worry about it. I was just … yeah.”

The smile on Sylvain’s face gives Felix the impression that he understands. Feeling as reassured as he could possibly be, Felix leaves his jacket on a coat hanger before removing his T-shirt as well. He adjusts the binder a bit before folding the shirt and placing it down on a chair.

“Right, let’s get the design drawn on there,” says Sylvain. “You want it a little below your waist, right?”

“Mm. That’s right.”

Sylvain nods, picking up the design—he only altered Felix’s drawing to some degree, simply making it more polished. “Angel wings are honestly one of my favourite things to tattoo on people,” he says, gesturing for Felix to take a seat, “so I’m really glad you asked for me.”

“Well, you didn’t botch your last tattoo, so I reckoned it’d be safe to ask you again.”

The laugh he receives is simply so _bright,_ Felix has to take a moment to merely blink at Sylvain. “Well, I probably wouldn’t be the owner of this place if I couldn’t even get a Crest tattoo right.”

The guidelines for the tattoo are soon prepared on Felix’s skin. He finds himself shivering easily at the contact of Sylvain’s hands against his skin, and it’s difficult to tell if it’s because of their temperature or from the touch itself. It’s likely the latter.

“Okay, so we’re ready there. Let’s check that you’re happy with the placement first.”

Felix peers behind himself at the mirror. “Oh, yeah. That’s exactly what I envisioned.”

He keeps his voice casual, but inside, his heart skips a bit and he swallows. There’s far more significance behind this tattoo than the other. His Fraldarius Crest might be dedicated to his father, but angel wings hit closer to home.

“Lie down on your stomach here, then. It’ll be a bit easier for both of us.”

Felix follows the instruction, settling himself down against the leather seat. Something feels far more nerve-wracking about this than simply handing his wrist over to Sylvain. Something that makes his heart beat a bit faster before he has even properly considered the needle going against his skin, which is laughable. There is nothing homoerotic about someone giving him a tattoo that commemorates a dead family member.

“Let me know if you need a longer break at all, and don’t forget to drink water as I do this,” says Sylvain. “Ready?”

“Sure thing.”

Due to Felix having quite a slender torso, he’s half-expected to be in agony. If he can handle his skinny wrists getting tattooed, however, it appears as though this area of skin is something he can also endure easily enough. It hurts more the closer Sylvain edges to his spine, but it’s completely bearable for now.

“Doing great,” Sylvain soon says as he wipes away some blood.

“It’s not too bad. Although I bet it’s going to hurt a lot more when you go closer to the middle.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s one of the reasons I wanted you to lounge like this. It doesn’t make your spine stick out, not to mention that it’s generally more comfortable.”

Felix hums. Lying on his front is something he tries to absolutely avoid when he isn’t wearing a binder, but at the moment, it’s not so bad. He can simply relax his head against his folded arms and listen to the distant music he can pick up over the sound of the tattoo machine.

“How often have you had to fix up bad tattoo jobs?” he soon questions. Sylvain sniggers.

“Quite a few times. That’s naturally something which people always want someone experienced to do, so it’s not messed up _again._ People also often like to get tattoos they no longer want there covered as well. Names of people they broke up with, general regrets … I’ve seen all sorts.”

“I can imagine. Eight years is a long time to see a lot of shit like this, and when you live in a city as big as this one, I imagine that you have no shortage of customers.”

“You’ve got that right. And honestly, I wouldn’t change that for the world. Not for a moment.”

These words bring a smile to Felix’s face; it’s clear to see that Sylvain has found his passion in life. It’s somehow both inspiring yet also a little heart-wrenching all at once. He wouldn’t say it’s necessarily jealousy, more simply that it reminds Felix of what he hasn’t yet achieved.

Although Ingrid would pester him about this again, saying how his life isn’t going to be over once he’s thirty, if she was able to see his thoughts about feeling behind in life.

Besides, it’s simply pleasant to see. When Felix looks over his shoulder at Sylvain, though he concentrates as well, there is rarely a moment where he doesn’t have a smile on his face. Felix often has to swallow and look away when he notices that. Something about watching this man as he does what he loves causes Felix’s stomach to churn with nerves. A positive kind.

This only escalates when Felix focuses on the hand against him, rather than the needle alone. It rests below his waist, fingertips slightly rough against his skin, although the touch is still gentle all at once. It lowers slightly when Sylvain shifts, only causing Felix to inhale all the more sharply when the needle treads closer towards Felix’s spine.

He must tense a little as well from these nerves, for Sylvain lifts the needle. “Breathe. You’re fine, Felix.”

Felix nods, breathing out and allowing his body to relax. “Good boy,” are the words given in response, barely above a murmur, and Felix wonders if he will die right there and then.

Somehow, he manages to survive the rest of the session. Once he stretches out his legs, he walks back over to the mirror in order to take a glance at his reflection. Sylvain assists with the second mirror again, and finally, Felix’s thoughts drift away from his homosexuality to the beauty of the angel wings now drawn on his back.

“Oh, wow,” he says, almost breathlessly. He twists his body this way and that, wanting to admire the tattoo at every angle. “You’ve done a great job.”

“You strike me as the type who doesn’t always give the most explicit compliments, so I shall take that happily. Glad you like it!”

Felix can only nod for a moment. He runs his gaze over every single line and curvature, his heart pounding yet soaring all at once. Whether Glenn knows this now exists is something that no one could ever prove, but if there is even the slightest possibility that he does, it only makes this ink on his skin all the more special.

Every single bit of money he gives after typing in the pin code for his debit card is worth it. His eyes meet Sylvain’s after, opening his mouth to speak and ask for something he knows only exists in novels. For Sylvain’s number. For a date, maybe. Anything, _anything_ at all that would allow the two of them to see each other again, that isn’t from Felix receiving these tattoos alone.

But Felix, in his eyes, is a coward when it comes to anything with romance. It’s something so obscenely foreign to him that any words regarding it lodge in his throat.

Past words from himself play on his mind, of having no time nor need for romance, whilst his current self bursts with the longing of watching those warm brown eyes for as long as time will allow.

“Thank you,” is all he says however, and a smile is all he receives. Although that in itself is something he can deem himself thankful for.

“You’re welcome, Felix. I hope to see you again!”

Like before, it’s difficult to see any further meaning behind that smile and those words. Felix is simply yet another customer, whilst Sylvain is someone a bit different than merely his tattooist. It’s something Felix will have to accept and forget about.

There’s no worth dwelling on matters as silly as this, after all.

  
  


* * *

  
  


A couple of weeks later, it turns out that past Felix is an utter liar, and after being unable to forget about Sylvain nor how much Felix wants to talk to him a little more, he has a plan in action. It’s probably a terrible one. It’s certainly something that might seem out of character for him. But by the Goddess, he’s simply too caught up in the stupidest crush of his existence to truly care.

“You want me to help you bake something?” asks Lysithea, turning her face away from the television she and Felix both watch.

“Is that such a surprise? I’ve helped you with it before.”

“Yes, _you_ helped _me._ And I always took that as you being a sweeter friend than you let on, rather than you having a passion for baking or whatever.” Lysithea snorts. “Don’t tell me you _are_ suddenly passionate?”

“And so what if I was? No, it’s not about chasing passions. I—I want to make something for someone.”

Lysithea lets out an “ooh” sound. Felix’s words are apparently so fascinating to her, she switches off the television, ignoring Felix’s protest—that is a good anime, goddamnit. “Someone else, huh? Who? I can’t think of any of your friends who have a birthday or other celebration, _so_ …”

“It’s nothing like that.” After she continues to stare at him, clearly waiting for more of an answer than this, he sighs and adds, “It’s for my tattooist.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. He did a great job with what he gave me and I wanted to thank him.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t sound so sceptical,” he sighs. “Are you going to help me or not? He mentioned at one point that he likes spicy stuff. I was thinking of working with that.”

Thankfully, the subject of what Felix plans to bake seems to be a distraction for her; she hums, folding her arms and leaning her face against her hand. “I think that cookies will be a good bet there,” she says. “I’m sure I have a few recipes with cookies that have a kick to them. Do you think that’d work?”

Felix nods. “I’d probably like them too, actually. Do you want to do it now, considering you’re the one who switched the anime off and all?”

As someone who adores baking to the highest possible degree (and is another person who has made a career out of their passion), Lysithea is more than happy to jump straight to their plans. She has a number of recipe books lining the shelves. After flicking through one, she lets out a joyful sound and turns the book around to show him a cinnamon cookie recipe. “This looks great! How about it?”

Within the blink of an eye, the two of them are preparing the ingredients in the kitchen. Felix has helped her enough times in the past to know the ropes by now. In reality, he could have probably done this by himself, but even though he struggles to admit it sometimes, he always has fun when the two of them do this together.

“All teasing aside,” says Lysithea, “I can see why you want to give that tattooist something as a thank you. I mean, those tattoos you have are beautiful. Anyone would be thankful for that.”

Felix hums, rolling some dough into a ball. “Yeah,” he says, because this truly isn’t all about his irrational attraction. “They would be.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


As Felix’s head leans back and his eyes land on the tattoo parlour in front of him, nerves find him again despite how he isn’t here for a needle to stab into his skin, this time. His hand tightens on the strap of his shoulder bag. After he exhales a breath visible in the winter air, he heads inside.

Much to his disappointment, when his eyes flick over the room, he doesn’t spot that familiar head of red hair. The person currently assisting a customer is a woman Felix recognises from their website. She laughs at something a co-worker says behind her and gives the customer a receipt, before her eyes land on Felix.

“Hey there,” she says, fixing some brunette hair falling over her shoulder. “Can I help you?”

“Uh, I was wondering if Sylvain is here?”

“Sylvain? Do you have an appointment with him?”

“No, it’s not that, I just—I have something to mention to him.”

Sort of, at least. The woman hums in curiosity, but doesn’t say anything else before she opens the door behind the counter and calls, “Sylvain, someone here wants to see you!”

A minute later, the man in question passes through, saying, “Thanks for telling me, Dorothea.” His eyes flick over to Felix and, though this could be Felix’s hopeful imagination, he swears that Sylvain’s face lights up. “Oh, Felix!”

“Sorry, were you busy?”

“Nah, I was on a break.” Sylvain heads closer, bearing Felix a smile. “What’s up? Not after another tattoo already, are you?”

“No, it’s not that.” Felix swallows, straightening out the bag on his shoulder as something to do, as he stares up at the man’s face and wonders how he can do this. “I wanted to thank you for the work you did. I didn’t really talk about it, but both of them commemorate people I’ve lost, so to have you put so much care into them means a lot to me.”

“Hey, it’s no problem at all. That’s just my job, right?”

“True. But it’s still much appreciated.” Felix pauses to gather his courage, soon deciding that speed is the best method to do this; he rushes to sift through his bag. “This is going to seem stupid, but my room-mate is a baker, and—yeah. I just wanted to make you something to say thank you.”

Felix whips out the bag of cookies, practically thrusting them in Sylvain’s face as he avoids his gaze. Mere seconds feel like minutes, his heart pounding for every moment. A rush of relief finds him when the weight in his hand lifts.

“Oh, what a lovely surprise!” Judging by the light-hearted laugh Sylvain lets out as well, he truly means it. “You really didn’t have to, but oh man—hold on. Let me try a bite.”

“Are you allowed?” Felix asks, eyeing up the way Sylvain sneakily opens up the bag. He merely holds a finger up to his lips, before fishing out a cookie and throwing the whole thing into his mouth with impressive swiftness.

“ _Mm,”_ he hums through his mouthful, biting through the cookie before swallowing and, with a smile on his face, says, “Oh, that was delicious, thank you! They have such a good kick to them.”

“Yeah, you mentioned you like spicy food. It’s nothing.” Somehow, Sylvain actually enjoying the cookies makes Felix feel all the more awkward, even if it also now meshes with warmth. “Well, that’s all I dropped by for, so—”

“Awh, but now I need to do something for _you,_ too. I mean, you just gave me a gift.”

“But that was a gift to give back for the tattoos.”

“But the tattoos were paid for, so they weren’t a gift at all, and now I have a gift that I need to give back for.”

When Felix initially opens his mouth again, he’s ready to question why Sylvain feels the need to give back after receiving a gift, and if that is something he would do on his birthday. It closes again as Felix inspects the bright look in Sylvain’s eye, causing butterflies to settle in Felix’s stomach again, and … perhaps it won’t be so bad really, to take advantage of this situation.

In a surge of confidence, Felix says, “Well, in return, you could always take me for dinner and I can have some food I like, too.”

For once, he’s made the right call. A large grin stretches out on Sylvain’s face, giving Felix a wink. “Oh, I’m ready to take such a cutie out on a date anytime. Can I have your number, then?”

“Don’t you already have it?” asks Felix, digging into the pocket of his jeans for his phone. “I mean, I do have bookings.”

“Yeah, but this feels better, you know? More professional. Both as a tattooist and an expert in the dating scene.”

“Oh, shut up.”

A minute later, both have exchanged their numbers. Sylvain holds the bag of cookies up with a smile as Felix turns to leave, saying, “Thanks again, Felix! I’ll text you later.”

Felix merely hums, giving a lazy wave over his shoulder as he heads out of the parlour. Once he is outside, his head lowers with a smile on his face, and he thanks the course of events which have led to this moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As you might have noticed, this has been popped into a series, being as I really can't see it being only one fic alone as I have both SFW and NSFW ideas for this AU. This particular fic might also get a second chapter.
> 
> Feel free to find me on Twitter @nikobynight for FE3H rambles and art. I also post my non-related FE3H art on Oliver__Niko.


End file.
